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There’s an interesting article in the April 3, 2017 edition of The New Yorker entitled “The God Pill” by Tad Friend. It discusses the money invested, and the lengths people are going to, for the purpose of coming up with a medically or technologically assisted prolongation of life. In some instances even, there is talk of living forever, whatever that may actually mean for a body. The impetus, and the money behind the energy to engage in this kind of research, comes mainly from Silicon Valley billionaires. A number of different options are being looked at, but they fall mostly into two categories. One has to do with fixing genes that are thought to cause aging, turning them off, or tweaking them in certain ways, so as to slow down or even reverse the effects of the passage of time. The other more or less gives up on that approach and looks instead to a science that will find ways of creating replacement parts, ones that can be slotted in and take over from badly damaged or non-functioning ones (like putting a new carburetor into an engine). There’s even talk of a third possibility, a kind of wholesale transferring of one’s consciousness into “the cloud.” Apparently, or so the thinking goes, if you live in the cloud, you live forever.

Although enthusiasts like to claim otherwise, most of this is likely only to be a possibility that might take place, if it does so at all, in the distant future. Still, it’s no stretch of the imagination to see that things are already beginning, if slowly. Current medical science regularly puts new hearts, livers, kidneys etc. into people’s bodies. Still, such replacement parts come from other human beings, not off the shelf.

Unless you are someone with access to the almost unimaginable (for most of us, anyway) disposable wealth of the superrich, much of the above might just as well be science fiction. The majority of us are happy enough if we’re able to get regular medical coverage, the kind that takes care of ordinary illnesses that plague human beings. We’re delighted that doctors have antibiotics that can cure bacterial infections, which in the past might have brought a slow and painful death, or that medical knowledge has advanced to give us actual–if mechanical–replacement parts, like new knees or hips, or stents to open up clogged coronary arteries. In fact, these days we breathe a sigh of relief when we get to keep medical coverage at all, given the recent politics of wrath that would take coverage away from millions.

So, Silicon Valley billionaires don’t want to die? What a surprise! If you were to ask most of us, would the answer be so different? Obviously, the knee-jerk reaction of most living beings is to want to go on and on. And this is so whether you believe in an afterlife or not. Of course, there are exceptions here and there, like brainwashed suicide bombers, or poor souls so despondent they decide they no longer wish to live. But these are outliers. The tendency for almost everyone is to say they’d like to keep on living, even if we may not have thought through very well what that would exactly entail.

What would it really mean for us to live on endlessly? It’s not even easy to envision, this notion of going on decade after decade, century after century, in the same body we know and love. All of our experience as a species predisposes us to look for an ending in whatever we undertake. And this is true in all of nature; plants, animals, and insects all die. A few live long lives, like the Arctic Sea Sponge that can go on for 1500 years, and the Methuselah of them all, the California Bristlecone Pine that is reported to be 4,765 years old. But even these ancient ones come to an end. Suns, planets, whole galaxies die eventually, so why should we be an exception? Even practically speaking, there are difficulties and challenges. Where would we be, for example, if large numbers of people never passed on? Would they also stop having children? Because, if not, projections related to the overpopulation of the globe—as dire as they currently are—would quickly angle up entirely off the charts, in the most devastating of ways.

But practical issues aside (as important as they are), the real question may be: Why would we wish to live forever? Here we pass on from medicine and technology to matters more in the philosophical or even spiritual realm. How would it feel to live on and on, if friends and loved ones did not as well? Of course, a billionaire could pay for a few selected people to also be given the same treatment he or she got, though most of us could not do so. But even if we could, would that be enough? How many of us would really want to keep on going long enough to witness the horrors of what the future is very likely to offer? If there were appalling and shockingly devastating wars, and horrific, cataclysmic natural events in the past surely there will be others—and even worse ones—in the years to come. Given the already out of control population increases, dire new technologies of war, and the likelihood of massive destruction due to the ever-increasing warming of the globe, is this something we really wish to go out of our way to stay around and witness? Isn’t it bad enough that we condemn our own children and grandchildren to have to endure what is likely to come, due in part at least to our lack of foresight and unwillingness to act?

In centuries past, eternal life was thought of exclusively as the business of churches. Christians and many others cringed at the thought of dying unshriven, outside of God’s good grace, and winding up in hell forever. But is the traditional notion of heaven any better, sitting around in some idealized space somewhere, whatever it may look like, and doing, well, what exactly? Yet, whether or not one believes in such a scenario, is it reasonable to think that endless life in the body, or in “the cloud” somewhere, would be so much better?

Personally, my choice is to opt out of this endless life-in-the-body thing, or some super-cyber connectivity (who knows how one’s personality, or even one’s thoughts, would survive there; and who maintains the system, how does it keep itself going?). Better, far better, to concentrate on living each moment of one’s normal everyday life purposefully, conscientiously and compassionately; to care for one’s fellow beings (and not just one’s fellow human beings); and to honor and celebrate the earth as a living entity, rather than chase after some will-o-the-wisp concoction of everlasting life on earth. As if the earth itself would last forever, anyway. Far more appealing, to my mind, is the Hindu notion of God referred to as “Sat, Chit, Ananda.” It means “ever existing, ever new bliss.” A life not in a never-ending body, or tethered to some mega-web, but living instead in the constant awareness of a continually new and joy-filled consciousness.

So, live in the body? Yes, absolutely, and to the fullest extent, for whatever our time may be. But what has a beginning also has to have an end. If whole galaxies and star systems can die, so probably can we. Billionaires might do better to spend their money helping the poor and the dispossessed make a better life in the moment, rather than searching for some would-be Fountain of Youth they’ll never find.

In the meantime, I’ll keep on trying to attain a consciousness that transcends the body and anything material. Or, better, one that includes the body and all of matter. That’s not a quest limited only to the super-wealthy; it’s open to everybody. A consciousness that lives with the body or without it, now and later, here and there, in ever-new happiness, forever and forever more—now, there’s a “God pill” I can go for.

As Judge Neil Gorsuch faces Senate confirmation hearings this week, we would do well to think what is meant by the concept of originalism. Gorsuch is a well-documented proponent of that legal theory, and it is one that can profoundly affect many of the cases that routinely appear before the Supreme Court.

Originalism is the belief that judges should accept the words of the Constitution, as they were understood at the time when it was written. It therefore touches upon the most basic questions that comes before a judge, namely, how to interpret a law in a given case, and if that law comports with the Constitution. Decisions using originalism as their founding argument usually align quite well with conservative principles. For example, gay marriage was not legal (it was never even considered) in the late 18th century, and no reference was ever made to it in the Constitution. Therefore, originalists say, that document cannot be used to make it legal today.

Justice Antonin Scalia, a well-known originalist, voted against the claimant in Obergefel v. Hodges, which legalized same-sex marriage. In his descent, Scalia even went on to call the ruling a “threat against American democracy,” although he adds that the ruling was “of no personal importance to me.” And while we can legitimately question the veracity of that claim, given the conservatism of his Catholic faith, as well as what Scalia has said elsewhere about gay people and their rights, what is at issue here is the stated legal reasoning behind his decision. He goes on to say that what is of overwhelming importance to him is this: “Today’s decree says that my Ruler, the Ruler of 320 million Americans coast-to-coast, is a majority of the nine lawyers on the Supreme Court,” adding that the courts have created liberties never intended in the Constitution.

In theory, originalists claim that they have no right to interpret laws, including, indeed especially, the Constitution itself, unless by interpretation we mean the parsing out of exactly what the writers of the Constitution meant at the time when they wrote it. This raises a number of obvious questions. First, how are we to know exactly what was in the minds of men (and there were, of course, no women framers), and white privileged elite men at that, who lived and thrived and thought as men did in the 18th century? It is difficult enough to get into the heads of people living today, in such a way as to discern exactly what is meant by what they have written. And yet we know, or can know, the recent history and the surrounding culture in a most immediate way. Which suggests yet another question, one that goes to this very issue of history and culture. The writers of the Constitution were men who lived high above others of their time in terms of wealth and power; some of them owned slaves and considered them to be property (e.g. Benjamin Franklin, James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington, among others); they looked upon women as less than full citizens; they believed that only white male property owners should be able to vote and hold office; and they were overwhelmingly Protestant Christians. If these are the things the founding fathers embodied and believed in, do they really represent what we in today’s world ought to be attempting to understand and to emulate? Should this be the major contextual basis for interpreting the Constitution?

Originalists consider the Constitution to be a “dead document.” It is not a “living document” because it is not open to the interpretation of the present day. What it says is what it meant, nothing more, and any finagling with its meaning is, and ought to be, anathema. But nowhere does the Constitution itself make this claim. And while it may be argued that there was no need to say it, no need to make it explicit as this was simply understood, is that not an argument against itself? If the words of the document do not make it clear and unambiguous, then who are we to “interpret” the document to mean something it does not literally say?

The main dessenting argument against originalism in essence comes down to this: We cannot, and should not, attempt to literally apply a document, signed 228 years ago by a group consisting of all white men who believed in the very limited freedoms of that era, to the highly varied and extremely different world of the 21st century. Indeed, belief in originalism, as applied to the US Constitution, is very closely allied to a fundamentalist approach to the scripture of any religion you may care to name. Like originalists, religious fundamentalists hang on every word of the sacred text. They believe it says what it means in a literal way, and is not to be interpreted by humans so as to comply with current historical or cultural norms. The idea behind the notion is that God spoke to his people in this scripture, and because God does not make errors, nothing he said in the book can be wrong. According to this theory, our job is simple: to read, understand, apply verbatim, and obey. Those who do so, however, all too often encounter strange notions of what to eat, how to dress, and what we can and cannot say or do, according to rules that were put in place perhaps thousands of years ago, as if the world had not changed an iota in the intervening centuries.

If the Senate confirms Judge Gorsuch, just how strict an originalist he proves himself to be remains to be seen. The Heritage Foundation, a highly conservative political think tank, has written a lot about originalism by way of explaining and defending it. In “The Heritage Guide to the Constitution,” they discuss how it is possible to ascertain the original meaning of the founding document. Among other things, they suggest the obvious, such as discerning the “evident meaning of the words” according to the lexicon of the times; in addition, they recommend studying the surrounding debates of the time on the Constitution, looking at the words in the context of the political philosophy of the framers, reading contemporaneous interpreters, and examining the “evidence of long-standing traditions that demonstrates the people’s understanding of the words.”

But just as with religious fundamentalism, so with political originalism, one really cannot completely get away from interpretation. Too many things in sacred texts contradict one another, or are simply considered utterly outlandish in the modern world. The most obvious of these in the Bible is no doubt its support of slavery, but there are many others, as well. So then, is it all right to pick and choose what we think ought to be followed literally, leaving out the ones we choose not to acknowledge? Even the religious argument against abortion relies on interpretation. Abortion per se is nowhere condemned in the Bible. Instead, Christians rely on the “Thou Shalt Not Kill” commandment to support their position. Yet, it must be conceded that exactly when the life of a human being begins is a matter of opinion, of interpretation. The same can be said, covering the same issue, when it comes to originalism. The exact time when one can be identified as being alive as a human person is not clear. Is it at inception, or at birth? And yet, originalists claim that abortion is not supported by the Constitution. Why? Where does it say that life begins at the moment of conception? And if it does not say so, how can a law against it be considered anything other than an interpretation. Yet, originalists do not interpret. Or so they say.

Are originalists, and conservatives generally, the real upholders of the law and tradition, stalwarts who want to keep America on the straight and narrow, who fear a loss of self-identity, of “soul,” if we are not careful? Or are they merely proponents of small government, of upholding the rights of those who are already powerful and privileged, and of applying laws strictly, even harshly, because otherwise how are we to keep ourselves safe in a dangerous world? These notions of power and self-protection and aggrandizement of our country at the expense of all others have become binding principles among conservatives today, even more so with the advent of the Trump administration. And again, it’s worth remembering that originalist interpretations of the Constitution align very closely with these conservative beliefs.

It is therefore incumbent on senators, Democrats in particular, to question Judge Gorsuch very closely on his political philosophy. Not on the specifics of how he would rule in this or that hypothetical case. No judge can be expected to respond to the hypothetical, when details are unknown. But judges can well be held accountable for past decisions, and questioned closely on them. In legal terminology, this notion is referred to as stare decisis, a term that means to stand by things decided. Stare decisis can tell us a good deal about Judge Gorsuch, and it a valuable tool in helping us to understand just how he thinks judicially. Can words be understood in the context of the modern world? Are we constrained to live by notions espoused hundreds of years ago, in a different era with a very different cultural and historical context? Or can we live in the present, applying our knowledge, our intelligence, and our experience to the principles laid down by those who came before us?

This is what I would like to know about Judge Gorsuch. And depending on what his answers to these questions may be, I would like to see him confirmed or rejected. At this point, my guess is that, given the judge’s past rulings and his writings, we ought to hold out for a better and more open-minded new justice of the Supreme Court.

There are so many things happening in the political world these days that it’s hard to decide which to highlight. That being so, why not go for the biggest, the most menacing, the one that has the greatest overarching effect on all of us—namely, climate change, the warming of the very globe we all call home?

Yet the topic of climate change, in and of itself, is too vast and complex for any one article. It needs to be broken down into component parts. There are innumerable ways of approaching the myriad of issues related to it. But one that is surely among the most important, and yet which gets far less attention than it should, is that of overpopulation. In 1944, the year I was born, the world had fewer than 2.2 billion people in it. Today there are nearly 7.5 billion, an increase of more than 5 billion in the space of 73 years. Predictably, we will also see that number rise to 8 billion by 2024, and to 9 billion in 2042. What are we to do with all these people? How to feed them? Where to house them? Where to find enough arable land to grow crops for them? How will they make a living for themselves and their families? And what will be the effect of vastly increasing numbers of humans on the environment?

As daunting as these figures and these questions may be, hiding from them is not an option. We must look at them head on and not flinch. Once recognized, we then have to decide what to do about it, how to change what we otherwise know is coming. And, although it may be tempting to go to what seems like the simplest and most direct solution, that is, for people to have fewer children, as true as this may be, that option has not proven to be a particularly feasible one, at least as far as governmental regulations are concerned.

The one exception is China, with its now defunct one child policy. The population increase there has leveled off markedly in the last several decades, since the inception of the policy. For example, there were 33 births per thousand women in 1970, but only 15 births per thousand in 1998. This is an enormous difference, but the decrease comes with its own set of problems. Boys, always more desired in traditional Chinese society, were wanted and kept, while girls were often aborted, or sometimes even abandoned at birth. As a result, there are unnaturally more males in the population today than there are females, a major demographic and societal problem. And the rapidly aging population of China now has far fewer younger citizens to help support their elders in retirement. Additionally, it’s obvious that no western-style democracy would ever be willing, or able, to put into place the kinds of prohibitive restrictions the Chinese government did.

The best control on population growth is, and always has been, education—and education for girls, in particular. Note, for example, that the number of births per woman in Japan is 1.3; that same number for Guinea-Bissau is 5.7 births per woman. According to the Earth Policy Institute, “One of the most effective ways to lower population growth and reduce poverty is to provide adequate education for both girls and boys. Countries in which more children are enrolled in school—even at the primary level—tend to have strikingly lower fertility rates.” Let’s hear it, then, for more education.

But we know that there exist a number of obstacles to the education of children. Many countries are simply too poor to offer adequate teaching facilities for a large majority of their children, and there are others where social, religious and cultural factors prevent girls in particular from receiving an education. All of which points to a substantial likelihood that world population will continue to rise, at least for the foreseeable future. It’s therefore incumbent on us now to do what actually is in our power to help counteract the most deleterious effects of overpopulation.

The Trump Administration has already demonstrated that it does not believe in global climate change, or at least that the warming of the globe has anything to do with human activity. This perhaps should not be all that surprising. According to the Pew Research Foundation, almost three-quarters of Americans don’t trust the consensus of 97% of world scientists, who assert otherwise on climate change.

When it comes to actual numbers, however, and to hard data related to worldwide temperature variances, this is not really a question of belief. To cite one recent example, of the thousands that could be given, this past February was the warmest February on record. If the world really is warming, regardless of whom or what we believe may be responsible, it’s imperative to try to do something to prepare and protect ourselves and our environment from its worst effects. Decreasing the amount of fossil fuels used is what is most frequently suggested. And that must be done. But here, again, we run into corporate, and now governmental, doubters. If you don’t believe in human-induced global warming, why should you do anything about it?

Where, then, does that leave us? Fortunately, we do not have to rely solely on government at the federal level to effect changes. These days, a majority of the work is being done at the state and local level. And while I’m of the opinion that we need more than that, sometimes in the moment we have to take what we can get. Additionally, it’s encouraging that many businesses, and the military, have weighted in on the need for action to address global warming.

One plan that has gotten recent press (see “Housing is key factor in climate goals” in the Los Angeles Times, March 6, 2017) puts the emphasis on greater collectivity within cities—in other words, population density—as a way of drastically reducing commuting and the consequent use of gasoline. The idea, obvious enough, though not necessarily easy to accomplish, is to create urban spaces where people can both live and work in their own neighborhood. This eliminates the need for long commutes by car, and it allows people to get to jobs and places to eat and shop and play that are either within walking or biking distance, or that can be readily reached via fast, clean, affordable and reliable public transportation.

What’s being suggested is not so different from the kind of city I grew up in the 1940’s and 50’s. My family did not have a car, and that fact never felt to me like a burden. My father walked to work every morning; my mother took the bus to the department store where she worked; and my brother and sister and I all either walked or took the bus to school. The local grocery—a literal corner store—was a block away, and we lived across the street from our parish church. Sometimes, it may be that what was good was mistakenly discarded in the pursuit of what we like to think of as progress.

This new, or not so new, concept of closely packed housing near places of work and shopping and worship may not be welcomed by all. We have grown accustomed to driving in our private cars, sometimes long distances, to work and elsewhere. The concept of the soccer mom has become so acceptable as to even go unnoticed. Meanwhile, she drives her children hither and yon to team practice, to sporting events, and even to parent-arranged “play dates.” What ever happened to kids playing with others in the neighborhood? Some of the most affordable and desirable housing has been put up in sprawling suburbs with few amenities within easy reach. It is not uncommon in places like Los Angeles for an individual to drive an hour, even an hour and a half, each way to and from work.

As much as we may wish for a house in the suburbs with three bedrooms and two baths, it may be that we have to face the fact that it is, in the long run, unsustainable. And if it is difficult to maintain now, with the population we currently have, what will happen in 2042, when there are 9 billion people on the planet? The idea of attempting to reduce some of the excesses of overpopulation through the encouragement of urban population density is of course not a panacea. Indeed, like most things, it falls far short of a complete solution, and it brings with it its own pluses and minuses. It is, though, one of the many factors about which humans will have to make choices in the coming years, if we are to hope that our children, and their children, will be able to live on a healthy planet.

The truth is that change is coming, whether we like it or not, and whether we acknowledge it or not. Surely, it is better to look directly at what will be, and to make the adjustments needed now, in order to help diminish some of the worst effects of these eventualities. What is needed is a willing coalition of ordinary citizens, of city and county government officials, of the private sector, of state leadership, and eventually (or so we can hope) support and encouragement at the federal—and the international—level, to make the kinds of changes that are needed.

This is a tall order, especially in today’s hyper-partisan atmosphere. But in the end, the consequences of doing nothing may be too terrible not to contemplate.

I’ve asked myself a number of times why I haven’t written much of late, given the unprecedented and disastrous advent of the Trump Administration. Surely, I thought, there has been plenty happening, and I must have something to say about it. There are innumerable topics about which I have deep feelings, opinions that diverge sharply from the reprehensible actions of the president and his staff. These actions have to do with everything from immigration and deportation, to foreign policy, to civil rights, to climate change and environmental policy generally, to healthcare, to international trade, and on and on. In one sense, this itself may have been the problem for me. I’ve felt stymied, sometimes almost paralyzed, by the avalanche of deplorable and reprehensible actions that come willy-nilly from the Trump administration on almost a daily basis.

In the end, however, silence is not a tenable position. While the feeling of being submerged by the events of the day is understandable, what isn’t all right is to sit back and do nothing. Not that it’s my intention to tell anyone else how they should act. Each person will take on what she or he feels is possible to do. But even the smallest thing may contribute in ways that we may not always be aware of. And an accumulation of small actions, bound together in solidarity and common interest and common passion, can often do more than a single large action.

I suppose it could be because of these thoughts I’ve been mulling over lately, but I had a dream the other night in which I saw a poster on which was written in bold letters: “Write Your Blog and Do Your Part.” So, I’ve decided it’s time to stop feeling hobbled and constrained by people and events. After all, I am a believer in the notion that every word spoken has a wide-ranging and resonant effect in the world, and words uttered from the heart, as well as from the head, are all the more powerful.

What then do I think about the Trump Administration? My very first reaction was that it might bring fascism down upon our country. And I should add I’m still concerned that it could. But what strikes me more so these days is not so much its execrable authoritarian bent, as terrible as that is, but instead the disordered, almost anarchical chaos of its dealings with the world. Trump is someone incapable of long-term planning, so very unlike his measured and highly intellectual predecessor. The new president is clearly uncomfortable with logic, forethought and groundwork, anything that hints of a cool, cerebral projection of ideas and policies. By his own admission, he prefers to keep us guessing, so as to keep people off balance and, in so doing, gain the advantage over them. And while such a strategy may work in business, although I have my doubts that it does even there—at least not in the long run—it is a disastrous way to run a government.

Of course, chaos and turmoil are hardly new; neither were they introduced into the world by Donald Trump. He is merely the latest iteration. With very little effort, anyone who studies history can come up with multiple examples of it. To name general categories, rather than specific instances of each (as the list would otherwise be almost endless), we might include the following: wars, slavery and forced labor, massacres, purges, internment camps, human-induced mass starvation, killing in the name of religion or political ideology, forced conversion, human sacrifice, cultural genocide, and on and on. This is what people have done to each other over the millennia, and it continues today.

The Principle of Chaos is seldom far removed from our lives, as much as we may think of ourselves as civilized. Before Hitler, many Germans surely thought of themselves as—and were—refined and enlightened, good solid citizens of the state, well mannered, and compassionate. But in the end, great fear, as well as a certain human willingness to overlook what is happening around one, took over and blinded people as to what they were allowing themselves to become.

The tendency toward chaos appears to be a thing deeply embedded in the human psyche, though most of the time we rouse ourselves to combat and counteract it. Some are more successful at it than others. We see it in our deepest mythic stories. And what are mythologies, but tales we tell ourselves and others in order to help us understand the frightening underlying power of the unconscious mind? Here again, there are countless examples: the coyote trickster in many American Indian traditions; fear of the dark wood in European fairytales; Loki in old Norse stories; the fallen angels—to say nothing of Satan—in Christian thought; and the Fomorians, a group of anti-gods in Irish myth, who fought against the gods of the upper world. Some of the Fomorians wound up marrying the gods (the Tuatha De Danann) and having offspring, a not too unsubtle nod to the idea that we are all mixtures of good and bad.

Along with great uncertainty and tremendous disruption in people’s lives, chaos also brings with it fear and panic. Where there had once been a calm certitude about life, a sort of ordinariness, even a boring routine, though one that induced assurance and confidence that life would go on as it always has, now instead ensues tumult and confusion, mayhem and disarray. We see this in the millions of immigrants—legal and illegal—who are wary of going to work in the morning and to school, or to the market to buy food. They are frightened even to go out into the street, lest an Immigration and Customs Enforcement official stop and arrest them. We see it with Muslims, too, and among transgender students, leery of going to school anymore, with the millions who now fear whether or not they will get to keep their health insurance, and even in the scientific community, where people are justifiably guarded and watchful of government agencies disrupting studies they disapprove of.

Chaos is not just something that appears in myth. It is a real thing that takes place in the world we live in. We see it in mythological stories precisely because it happens in everyday life, because it is part of how humans sometimes act. None of this is meant to say that we must accept it. It is inevitable only to the extent that we acquiesce to it, that we allow it to happen.

Donald Trump may thrive on chaos. He may have chosen his closest advisers, people like Steve Bannon and Steve Miller, exactly because they feed his need for it. But there still remain elements of our government and our society that can fight and counteract the hubbub of despair that comes with chaotic and authoritarian governmental action. So far, at least, the judiciary has stood solid, the press has remained vigilant, and most of all the people themselves have made their voices heard.

That is why I am writing today, and why it is important for all of us to do whatever we can to protest loudly and forcefully, whenever it’s required that we do so. Otherwise, chaos continues to reign; otherwise, the forces of disorder and confusion sap our energies and lay us low. With will and determination, we can counteract at least some of the upheaval of a newly topsy-turvy world. And we can, as well—come 2018—effect dramatic changes of our own making.

Emma Lazarus wrote, as seen on the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless and tempest tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” This is—or was—the sacred promise of America, and if that doesn’t sound like today’s refugees and immigrants, the poor and dispossessed of the earth, it’s hard to imagine what else it could describe. What does the notion of liberty actually mean, other than freedom of choice, the ability to do as one wishes, unfettered by physical or social constraint, so long as others are not harmed and, in doing so, one does not unduly trample on the rights of others?

But why, in the picture, do we see Lady Liberty embracing Mother Nature? The two come together because none of us, neither human beings nor any of the other creatures of the earth, can live our normal lives beyond the boundaries of the physical world, or beyond an emotional and social context. What this suggests is that our vaunted freedom to choose is best used in opting for the right and the good, not only for ourselves, but for the life of the planet as a whole. It’s incumbent on each of us to recognize the natural world in all of its diversity. As Yeats put it a century ago: “…the young in one another’s arms, birds in the trees, the salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, fish, flesh, or fowl…whatever is begotten, born, or dies.” This is the world of nature, seen, experienced, and lived in by all of us.

The two figures are depicted as holding each other and kissing. Just as with human lovers, each needs and chooses the other in an ultimate exercise of freedom. But that choice can only be made in the absence of coercion and of political or social authoritarianism. If Lady Liberty and Mother Nature hold each other today, it is the duty of each of us to do all we can to ensure that continued ability to embrace and kiss. In so doing, Liberty and Nature engender love and creativity, as well as a hope for a better future for us and for the planet. If the politics of the day work against this, only our will and our eternal vigilance can counteract it.

SOME ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

from the artist – Kevin L. Miller

Lady Liberty is one of the primary symbols for the United States of America. Mother Nature, of course, represents all of Nature and the Earth itself. When a friend and former colleague suggested that I might consider drawing Lady Liberty and Mother Nature as friends, I thought “What a good idea!” But when I began to develop a composition on the screen of my mind their “friendship” became much more – a deeply committed intimate relationship of love and mutual support. And this seems entirely appropriate, since the U.S. and the Earth need each other in order to survive. America cannot thrive if the Earth becomes unable to sustain life. And the Earth will cease to be able to do so, if the U.S. and all of humanity does not quickly learn how to nurture, honor, and respect our planet. Lady Liberty and Mother Nature are embracing for life. Their intimate embrace is a fundamental necessity, whether we and the world’s nations and leaders acknowledge it or not. If we want to avoid the looming Sixth Mass Extinction and leave a planet where our children and grandchildren can thrive, then we will support and celebrate Lady Liberty and Mother Nature embracing for life.

We will see what the election of Donald Trump to become the 45th president of the United States brings with it. So far, there seems little doubt that it does not bode well for the environment, for the battle against global climate change, for the physical health of millions of Americans, especially the country’s poorest, for international affairs, or for transnational trade. In the end, it might even presage bad news for the working class, those very individuals whose support—due to the eccentricities of the Electoral College—propelled him into the White House in the first place.

Trump claims to have been elected by an overwhelming vote of the people, but the latest count shows that he lost the popular election by 2.8 million. He consistently lost in almost every major urban center in the country, while eking out Electoral College wins in several states. In Michigan, for example, he won by only about 10,000 votes; in Wisconsin the number was approximately 22,000; and in Pennsylvania it was by some 40,000. If we add in two other Trump victories, namely Florida and South Carolina, where he won by 120,00 and 177,000 votes respectively, we come to a total of 370,000. That number cinched for him the 84 electoral votes that come with these states. Compare that to the number of electoral votes Hillary Clinton won by taking California and New York—also 84. In other words, Trump received 84 electoral votes with only 370,000 popular votes, while Clinton got them by winning 4.9 million popular votes (the combined number she received in California and New York). Is it fair, or even democratic, to allot the same number of electoral votes to both candidates, when one took the popular vote in the states mentioned by more than 4 million? Ultimately, the question of the viability of the Electoral College has to be left up to the American people as a whole to consider. But one thing is for sure: in no way can Trump’s win be considered a landslide.

Leaving aside for the moment the whole issue of how, or by how much, he won, what has to be faced now is what will he do with his newly found power? Since he has not even been inaugurated yet, we are mostly left to speculate. We do know that he has already nominated a conglomeration of billionaires for his cabinet. Overall, these individuals represent a group that promises to stymie federal regulations that protect the environment and people’s health and wellbeing, and instead will lobby for the rich and powerful, and who—if confirmed by Congress—would in some cases work to undo the very agencies they were sworn in to protect. Beyond that, his actions, and even his demeanor, so far are not promising. He has already managed to deeply offend the Chinese, cherry pick a company that was going to move its operations to Mexico and prevent—or bribe or bully—them from doing so (whether or not such a policy is sustainable is an open question), cozy up to dictators like Vladimir Putin and Rodrigo Duterte of the Philippines, and now he claims to openly doubt the combined intelligence gathering prowess of the country. We can only presume this is because he fears that Russia’s meddling in our presidential election for the purposes of promoting a Trump win will cast doubt on his legitimacy as the winner. And beyond even this, he continues not only to question, but to deny outright any human part in the warming of the globe, and to name like-minded people to positions that oversee the country’s efforts to do its part in battling climate change.

Given all this, when Trump becomes president of this country on January 20, 2017, what are we going to do about him? For one thing, everyone who believes in American democracy must work through their elected representatives—of both parties—in order to rein in Trump’s excesses. Democrats and Progressives may not agree with much that Republicans stand for, but already senators like John McCain (R-Arizona), and even Mitch McConnell (R-Kentucky), have expressed concern and are speaking out about Trump’s dangerous dismissal of the CIA’s findings related to Russia’s interference in our electoral process. Unfortunately, the GOP Speaker of the House, Paul Ryan, has not yet found the courage to do so, but political pressure has worked on him in the past, and he may yet come round to standing up for a full and fair examination into Russia’s role in Trump’s win. The country deserves such an inquiry, and we all ought to be concerned about the president-elect’s blithe and offhand dismissal of such astounding findings. Trump tells us he is an intelligent man and does not even need the daily security briefings that are part and parcel of any learning curve for a new chief executive. But this is not about how smart any individual may be. It’s about knowledge and information; it’s about keeping abreast of what is happening in a changing world. In a word, it’s about what is called intelligence, which Trump clearly needs.

More and more, it will be incumbent upon all Americans to keep themselves informed and to stand up and be counted when, as seems all too likely, Trump’s shoot-from-the-hip style and his more than questionable ideas and theories go against the good of the American people. It’s not inconceivable that his bizarre notions and his authoritarian impulses may pose a threat to the country, or even to the world.

If there ever was an expectation that Trump might show himself, after the election, to be more mature, less impulsive, more willing to accommodate the desires of all the American people, the time for it would be now. We can certainly hope that those who voted for Donald Trump were able to see something in him that many of us who didn’t cannot. If he succeeds in renewing the tattered infrastructure of the county, or in legitimately and sustainably bringing jobs back to those who have lost them and who have felt left out by the processes of the automatizing of industry and of globalization, we ought to be glad. But even then, at what cost might such benefits come, if indeed they come at all? What price are we willing to pay for such hoped-for benefits?

In the end, the country is stronger than any one individual, however misguided, or even malign, we may think his intentions to be. While awaiting the answers to the many questions about Donald Trump and the kind of president he will prove himself to be, we should remember and trust in the strengths of the checks and balances built into the Constitution. We would also do well to believe in the patriotism and love of country we see in many, of both parties, in Congress; and as individuals we must live our lives with as much watchfulness, dignity, and integrity as we can muster. “Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” This is a quote often attributed, rightly or wrongly, to Thomas Jefferson. Whether or not it was he who said it is hardly the point. These days, and always, it is a thing we would all do well to remember.

Dad died six weeks ago. I had been with him and Mom three days every week until his last, and then it was every day. Somehow I still managed to plant my garden in April and May, because I had already prepared the 16 big raised beds with amended soil last summer. But as the needs of my 88 and 91-year-old mother and father increased, there was no time for the garden. And when Dad died, it was time to plan and execute a huge memorial service over a period of a month. He was an ordained minister, educator, dean, vice president, and university and seminary president in our little subculture, The Church of the Brethren. He was well known and highly respected. More importantly, he was a saint – a deeply good, humble, generous man – and everyone loved him. Over many decades, thousands looked to him as their mentor, role model, and friend. So did I, especially during these final years, when he was so accessible and open. I am doing my best to help my poor mother cope with her bewilderment and grief. Three weeks from today would have been their 69th wedding anniversary. They knew each other for over 70 years and were devoted to one another. Dad utterly worshipped my mom, and she was born to be adored. It was and is my privilege and honor to serve them as they come to the end of their lives on earth.

Sadly, some things just aren’t getting done. The wild berries on our 12 acres in the woods were not picked this year — at least, not by us — and the weeds took over my garden. I ventured into that jungle just a week ago to see if anything could be salvaged. There may yet be hope of some yield of okra, heirloom tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, squash and pumpkins. Maybe a turnip or two. And I still have lettuce. But so many other crops failed due to neglect, bugs and weeds, and the garden is generally in tatters.

I myself have been feeling at loose ends lately. Now that Dad is gone and the big memorial service and luncheon are over, what’s next? The answer is obvious: I promised Dad during the final moments of his life that I would take very good care of Mother, just before she arrived at his bedside to stroke his cheek and tell him how much she loved him, as he took his last two breaths and left us. He waited for her… and he is waiting now. Mother is relatively functional, but needs lots of help anyway, because her memory is disappearing quickly, and she has serious medical conditions, tons of medications, and weekly doctors’ appointments to be managed. We play Scrabble and Boggle when we can, and she almost always beats me resoundingly. She was a school teacher and an editor of children’s text books. The creeping dementia has not yet taken hold in her language centers, but she cannot remember her best friends’ names or her two stays in the hospital last summer, or who came to visit yesterday. I serve as her memory now.

But sometimes I wonder what comes after this intense period of getting to know both of my parents so much better than ever before. It continues to be a profoundly valuable education. I had already discovered that when one spends time with high souls who are approaching death, the veil between the two world becomes thinner and eventually almost transparent. Sometimes the curtain is drawn back and allowed to flutter in the cosmic breeze for just an instant. Then, occasionally, it is possible to catch a glimpse of Heaven. There were holy moments like that with my father, and I’m sure there will be with my mother as well. But I ask myself, after all of that is over, what will I do with the rest of my life? Then I’m embarrassed by the question, because all is well. I’ve had a productive career. I am happy and content. The world may be collapsing around us, but nothing is amiss for me. Surely, it’s not so much about WHAT one does with one’s life as HOW one does it. Still, there is a feeling of potential… some impending destiny or assignment or adventure just around the corner. I’m having visions of paintings again. Maybe that’s it.

The first time I visited my overgrown garden, I noticed that my once lush 4 x 10 ft potato bed was completely devoid of greens where there had been a thick cover of them just weeks before. I assumed insects or animals must have destroyed all the potatoes. Then it rained hard a few times, and I spied some round tops of potatoes sticking up through the bare soil. So this morning I went into the garden with my three potato spades and began excavating. Two and a half hours later I had a very respectable box of potatoes ranging from smaller than a penny to baking size. Whereas I had recently assumed the potato patch was a total loss, I was fascinated to discover that a lot of the potatoes were growing much deeper than I had thought. I settled into the dirt and really began enjoying my search for hidden treasure. I noticed that some of the best and biggest potatoes were pressed up against the walls of the raised bed, as if they wanted to challenge the boundaries of the potato universe to expand their own individual identities. I couldn’t help thinking what a fine metaphor this potato bed was for life and the development of consciousness in general. I had thought that nothing was happening in the potato patch while I attended to more pressing duties, privileges and honors — taking care of my beloved parents. But it turns out that potatoes of many different sizes and types were growing there secretly, unseen beneath the surface, all along.

So, I’ve decided not to worry about what comes next. I’m happy in the present moment, doing what I am doing now, and isn’t that what matters? While I was sitting in the dirt digging out those potatoes in the sun, I was convinced that no other activity could possibly be more satisfying or fulfilling than finding potatoes in the ground. I could have done that for the rest of my life. And perhaps I will. But maybe… just possibly… some of those more mysterious potatoes growing deep under the surface and pressed up against the walls of their world… some of those unruly potatoes might contain surprises. In fact, if the past is any kind of template, they almost certainly will. But if not, I’ll be happy just digging in the dirt. After all, I realized after two and a half hours of hard labor had yielded $15 worth of produce, that it was not the potatoes I needed… It was that invaluable time in the dirt.